


Fate's Gambit

by Madam_Chauncey



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Post Origins, Post Witch Hunt, domestic life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 02:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13560999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Chauncey/pseuds/Madam_Chauncey
Summary: "You had others before me. Don't tell me I was the only man inclined to linger after the love was made." In the wake of quarrel and make-up, Morrigan wonders at the spark that suffocated every old flame.





	Fate's Gambit

Morrigan stepped through the threshold of their modest home, having spent the better part of an hour in the woods picking herbs to use in a bit of alchemy she was working on in her spare time.

She walked into their room where Kieran also slept to check on him, but noticed he was not in the crib his father fashioned for him.

His father.

She hadn't seen him when she entered their cottage, nor had she heard him busying himself doing outdoor chores as she approached. He was, however, supposed to be looking after their son.

Morrigan pursed her lips and closed her eyes, concentrating her magic on the sensation that allowed her to track his presence through the charmed ring she had given him.

She felt the lyrium licking up the base of her skull, but there was no response beyond that. The connection was dead; she felt nothing on the other end. Which only meant one thing: the Warden had taken off his ring, something he never did.

Panic coursed through her veins, followed quickly by anger. Scenarios immediately flitted through her cynical, analytical mind as to what this could mean. She hurriedly left their room, entering the small den to check in case she had missed them on her original passing through.

There she also found nothing. No Darrian, no three month-old Kieran.

Morrigan huffed. This had a been a foolish notion, she should have known this could only end in disaster.

Agreeing to this arrangement, living together like a happy family, as if there was such a thing.

She had been a fool.

Morrigan had known better, so what could have convinced her to act so irrationally?

He had come to her, told her how much he wanted to be with her, raise the child together. And what on earth had possessed her to ever believe a single syllable that came out of his mouth?

Oh, of course: she was in love with the bastard, despite her best efforts to prevent that very thing from happening.

No doubt Flemeth would be positively giddy that her idiocy was being rewarded in betrayal.

Morrigan forced herself to calm down. In all her bewilderment and anger she had forgotten one thing. While she could not feel the Warden-Commander's presence, she could indeed track the location where he had left the ring.

She followed the magical aura through their home as it pulsated and grew stronger inside of her mind.

And there at the highest concentration of magic, she found her gift to the Warden setting in a small table on their bedside.

Morrigan hissed and shoved the ring in her herb pouch; he had thought he had outsmarted her. He abandoned the ring so that she wouldn't be able to track him, the fool. Didn't he realize that she was the only one who knew how to use the Eluvian?

The former Witch of the Wilds briskly stepped out of their modest abode, turning smartly on her heels to circle around, looking for the man in question.

Her ire was through the roof. Old anger boiled in her veins, aimed directly at the one person she had been foolish enough to believe she could trust. Her boots crunched against the autumn grass and debris as she patrolled the perimeter of their home.

Then her search ended just as quickly as it had started. There, laying on a length of thick-sewn rough-spun cloth embedded between two trees, slept her Warden. Kieran was there also, cradled securely to his chest by his father's large, gentle hands.

Soft snores came from the Hero of Ferelden as he snoozed, the tiny three-month-old cooing and looking very much content in his father's arms. The witch felt a portion of her irritation crumble away at the quiet scene.

Morrigan approached him, prodding him in the shoulder. No response. She then gave him what can only be described as a shove. Finally, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing green, glassy irises.

He looked at her blankly, unfocused, until recognition dawned on him and he offered her a groggy smile.

"Mmm. Afternoon." He drawled.

The witched huffed. "Indeed. You had me livid until just a few seconds ago. I couldn't find you. I couldn't find Kieran. And you have taken your ring off, something you never do."

Shifting carefully so he could sit up without disturbing their child, he raised his left arm, glancing at his bare finger.

"… Oh. I nearly forgot. I took it off while I was putting together my hammock; didn't want it to come to any harm while I was working with my hands. Then after I put it together, I figured the only way to truly test my craftmanship was for Kieran and I to take a quick nap on it, and…"

Her lover opened his mouth to say more, but then paused a moment upon seeing her apathetic expression.

"—There's more to this than not being able to find us, isn't there?"

Morrigan pursed her lips and folded her arms over her chest. "I thought you had taken him, Darrian. And fled. For a few minutes, I wanted your blood."

The Denerim native blinked once, his expression becoming pensive in the wake of her confession. He took their child in his arms and carefully rose from his contraption.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit offended that after all this time, you would think I would leave you. Take Kieran away."

He then turned from her, heading for their cottage. She stood there a moment, silent and stone-faced as she watched him open the door with his free hand and disappear behind the threshold.

Then she felt her ire percolate in her blood once more. He was the one who had disappeared without any note or notion where he had gone! Was it really reasonable for him to be cross with her? They had been scarcely living together in their little world for a month after being apart for ten. Didn't she deserve time to adjust, learn how to be in a relationship again?

She scoffed at the thought and set off after him into their home just in time enough to see him enter their room to presumably set Kieran down. She scowled at the thoughts swirling in her head and leaned against the doorway, watching him place their infant son in his bed.

Turning from his task, he passed her on his way out then stood there stark still, back to her, as if contemplating something.

He finally turned. "You knew I took off my ring. Have you seen it? I thought I put it in our bedroom drawer."

Morrigan, silently seething, said nothing but journeyed into her pouch and brandished the ring, holding it out to him.

His brow- formerly creased with frustration- smoothed out, and he took the ring from her without a harsh world, slipping it on the ring finger of his left hand.

She always wondered why he chose the same finger on which humans wear their golden bonds of matrimony to wear her gift to him, but never could bring herself to ask such a leading question out loud.

She supposed city elves had adopted that practice from living so close to humans, but her gift to him had been a magical item, not a symbol of undying commitment or bond of servitude. So what was his reasoning?

Perhaps it was better she didn't know.

Darrian said nothing still, but made no motion to move away from her. Morrigan narrowed her brows, frustrated. When her partner's silence remained, she bristled for reasons even she wasn't sure about and leaned in closer to him.

Darrian, puzzled, backed away to avoid a collision as she pressed further on. A pair of moments later she had crowded him against the wall.

"Is it so difficult to fathom that after ten months apart I need a little more than a few weeks to adjust to our… arrangement?" she had meant to keep her cool, but her voice was scathing even to her own ears.

The Warden set his jaw. "Do you realize how hard it was being apart from you? How much I missed you and hated I couldn't be there for you? I wouldn't dare jeopardize my second chance."

Morrigan laughed mirthlessly. "You speak of your struggle? I traipsed around Ferelden for the better part of a year heavy with your child. You agreed to the ritual and that we would part ways afterward, then proceeded to spend what precious little time we had left together attempting to convince me I was making a mistake. Then I feel your approach through the ring months later as I'm poised to leave this world. Then when we finally meet you spend those few moments questioning my motives while simultaneously professing your undying love. Do you blame me for having a measure of uncertainty?"

His fists clenched at his side. "Matter of fact, I do, Morrigan. I hated that you had to go through the pregnancy alone. All I've wanted since reuniting is to be a good partner to you and good father to our son- what about that warrants suspicion?"

Morrigan wrinkled her nose. "Everything, truthfully. I've always been taught to never let my guard down for anybody, least of all a man. Especially one that pours honey into my ear at every turn."

"It's not honey, it's true feelings. I had hoped that after everything we've been through you would have learned that I'm from a different stock than the men you're apparently used to dealing with."

"Well, I haven't, then, by your definition. I love you, my sweet, but I will not apologize for being cautious. Only fools let the worst-case scenario catch them unaware."

Darrian growled, something she was very unaccustomed to. Her Warden was always fierce during battle, but gentle in every other facet of his life, more so she found where she was involved.

He exhaled, frustrated, and she watched his jaw clench and unclench as he struggled with his deep-seeded anger, but didn't raise his voice or his fists.

"I better go busy myself with chopping firewood for later this week," he informed her, voice tight with paper-thin control, "Before I say something I don't really mean out of hurt and anger."

Wordlessly he turned on his heels and across to the grouping of trees he was harvesting for their wood. He yanked off his tunic and pulled up his axe that was burrowed deep in the stump of a tree he chopped the night before.

She watched him for a moment hack away on the nearest whole trunk. His powerful horizontal drives knocked chunks out of the wood, it didn't take long for his tan skin to begin glistening with perspiration as his well-formed muscles flexed with strenuous activity.

Morrigan watched as he chopped fervently, but was too far away to hear any grunts or labored breathing. It was clear he was taking his anger over their tiff out on the tree. This was not their first fight, nor even their most intense one, but she could tell he was more hurt by this one than any other.

Did he wish for her to offer him lip service? To lie and say she never doubted? Why was he angry over her honesty?

And it she felt so strongly in her own defense, why did seeing his pain bother her so?

Morrigan huffed at her own vulnerability and watched until her love was halfway done with his task of felling the tree then walked back inside their cottage.

It was almost nauseating how excited Darrian was upon arriving. He had immediately started drafting plans of how to expand their little home, add on rooms. He most communicated he wanted to build her an alchemy lab where she could craft her poultices and other concoctions.

"You've had it hard—I want you to rely on me. When I get this finished, I can look after Kieran and you'll have your own room to escape to. Then you can spend your leisure time however you want."

He had scarce been there two days when he had said that, and her seemingly unquenchable desire stacked up from the months apart paired with the words coming out of his mouth proved to be quite the impetus for her. She almost immediately led him to the room they shared and pushed him onto their bed, then proceeded to show him exactly how she wanted to spend her leisure time.

Morrigan shook her head of the more pleasant memory and stopped at one of their windows, watching as Darrian finally felled the tree and set himself to the task of chopping it into logs that he would inevitably split into quartered pieces of wood for their cooking and warming fires.

It was odd having a man around to do the menial labor she had no desire to do. When it was herself and Flemeth, they of course used magic to do such things. But Darrian wordlessly took over the gritty work that went into maintaining their home, and seemed to quite enjoy it, at that.

Morrigan watched for a bit longer as Darrian went about his sweaty task, swinging his axe with power and precision as he expertly chopped the wood into wedges.

The witch frowned, thinking about their disagreement and how he expected her to abandon all sense of self-preservation. Had she not told him many times that without those lessons she would not have even lived long enough to meet him?

She turned away from the scene through the glass with a huff, settling down on the modest couch in what served as the den. That too gave her a rush of fond memories, for the first time they had made love upon reunification was on this very piece of furniture.

She shook her head of the sentiment; it was difficult to be mad at him when she thought of his caring nature, how he always asserted they were complete equals in their relationship as lovers and as parents. Not to mention the fire that stoked in her belly as she thought of their first coupling in this house, the touches and kisses fueled with the raw passion and excitement that had stored up in the months apart.

Frustrated, she snatched up the tome she had been reading before her herb picking in the woods and opened the book at the place marked and took up her study once more.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was nearly an hour later when Darrian entered their home again, panting and glistening with perspiration. He turned to her, eyes settling on her for a good five seconds. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but closed it and looked at the wall on the opposite side of the room, running a hand through his sweat damp hair, mussing it.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. He was likely wondering if it would be a good idea to ask about his supper after everything that had transpired.

To which the answer would be no, naturally. But she did have to feed Kieran, so she went to the room they shared, picking up the infant from his crib. The child opened his eyes and blinked at her. She found herself smiling despite her sour mood and carried him out to the den, sitting on the couch once more.

Darrian came back in, toting several pieces of wood that he had chopped and dried before. He placed them in the fireplace. She pushed her top aside so that Kieran could suckle as the elf went about the task of sparking the first beginnings of a flame.

It was only a few minutes before a healthy blaze was crackling in the fireplace. Kieran had finished his meal and Darrian emerged from their bedroom, having left the den to don clean garments. He approached her and extended his arms.

"May I?" he asked softly.

Morrigan wordlessly handed their son to his father. He hugged the babe securely to his chest and walked in a small circle, moving in gentle up and down motions to soothe the baby, talking in a small voice that was meant for only Kieran's ears.

She made out a murmured 'I love you' before Darrian kissed their child on the forehead and returned him to her arms. Her chest tightened at the gooey-eyed affection she saw in his eyes that she was not sure was meant for her or Kieran.

She couldn't imagine he was over the hard words that had been exchanged between them earlier, but he surprised her yet again when he kissed her quickly on the lips before she could protest. He then turned away to check on the fire.

Morrigan blinked curiously at his back, but left the room to put Kieran down for the night. She said her own goodnights to her son before laying the already sleeping child back in his crib for the night.

She once again returned to her seat in the den and continued reading from her tome. Darrian had apparently gotten some ingredients from their small pantry and had the cooking pot over the fire, presumably making the last meal himself.

"Supper should be ready in about an hour." He told her, finally breaking the tense silence between them.

She glanced up at him for just a moment as he stood there waiting for her response, then returned to her reading without a reply. She heard him sigh deeply, followed shortly by the sound of his heavy footsteps coming towards her.

She felt the book being pulled slowly from her grasp. She exhaled, frustrated, and saw Darrian kneel at her feet.

"Darling, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. Will you please let up with the cold shoulder?"

She quirked an eyebrow. Darrian usually never let their disagreements reach the point where they didn't speak, but if they did he would always shoulder the blame; the fact that he was the first to apologize was no surprise. But since deciding to raise Kieran together they hadn't quarreled over his devotion to her, which what his stance earlier boiled down to.

Knowing that, she was indeed surprised to see him apologize at all.

"So since you are now ready to lay down your arms, I must immediately get over what transpired?" Morrigan quipped icily. "Am I not allowed time and space to make my own peace?"

Darrian once again carded a hand through his chocolate brown hair, something she knew was a tell of his that gave away exasperation. "Mori, I don't want to fight. I was thinking while working and I realized that if you need to keep yourself at arm's length from me to feel secure, I will give you that. I want this too much to jeopardize what we have over my pride being hurt that you need more than my declarations of love to make you feel secure."

His right hand grasped the lounger cushion as his left brushed her bottom lip with his thumb. "I don't like it, but I understand… so… forgive me? Please? My heart aches when you're cross with me."

Morrigan couldn't help the smirk that spread across her face at what she considered over-sentimentality. "You are ever dramatic, my love. We've had more intense arguments over whether the tavern wenches in Denerim were disrobing you with their eyes or not, but very well. Have it your way; our little tiff is forgotten."

Her chest tightened after her little speech, burning with something unsaid. Her Warden beamed at her upon his redemption, standing and capturing her lips in a slow, meaningful kiss. He took a seat beside her as their affection deepened, and her arms involuntarily wound around his neck. She discreetly pressed her weight forward, pushing him on his back. She broke the kiss, gently nipping his bottom lip as she pulled away.

She supported herself on her palms against his chest, looking at him for a pregnant moment, picking up the faint scent of oak wood and sweat, which wasn't as unpleasant as one would think. To her senses it was familiar, safe, masculine, and his body pressed so closely to hers was doing wonders for her temperament.

She once again recalled the first night he spent here; the passion had begun on the same piece of furniture in much the same fashion.

"Mmm. Remember this at all?" she teased.

Darrian laughed. The velvety deep tone settled pleasantly in Morrigan's ears and sent a warm tingle up her spine. "How could I forget? I have that night branded in my memory. You, your smell, the way you looked—everything. Amazing."

Morrigan's lilt lowered to that husky, seductive timbre she knew drove the Warden Commander wild. "Such high praise. You were quite memorable as well… Think we can surpass ourselves?"

She snaked a hand under his tunic, mapping the hard, muscular planes of his torso with her left palm while the other traveled south toward his waistband. His breath catching in his chest was her reward.

Her partner exhaled sharply. "O-only one way to find out…"

He leaned up to kiss her again, but Morrigan just grinned and turned away at the very last moment, the Warden's lips catching only empty air.

Darrian growled in protest, looking the picture of frustration. Morrigan finally gifted him with a peck on the lips.

"Later, my sweet." She promised, trailing a finger down the chiseled space between his pectorals that stretched all the way to just above his navel. "Preferably after you've bathed. Though I do enjoy seeing you so flustered and primed for me."

"Mmm. I figured as much. Missed this. Missed you. Madly." His lips tickled her ear as he spoke.

She chuckled, cheek to his. "Typical man. I almost laugh thinking of you stomping around Amaranthine; the poor sex-starved Warden-Commander pawing at every pretty maiden he encountered

"Sex was only part of what I missed while we were apart," her Warden clarified, "and I certainly never bedded anyone else. What would have been the point?"

"Release, pleasure? Take your pick."

"Both of those without you are meaningless."

Another shiver zipped up her spine at the declaration. She had always claimed she cared not with whom he made his bed in the early days of their entanglement. But once he started throwing around words like 'love', she insisted there be an expectation of fidelity between them.

But when they parted after the battle with the Archdemon, she assumed he would move on to other women like any normal man would once rid of the shackles of monogamy.

She was proved wrong, pleasantly so.

However, the cynical nature her mother spent her entire life so carefully cultivating inside of her wanted to plant the seed of distrust in the back of her mind.

'He's lying, certainly,' it retorted, 'Do you truly believe he spent the better half of a year sexless as a Chantry choir boy because he was lovesick over you?'

She dared a look into his jade green eyes. They were soft, brimming with an honestly that hadn't been proven false in all the time she had known him.

Mother's warnings be damned—she believed him. And if one day it brought about her downfall, so be it.

Would it have mattered if he had bedded other women? Perhaps no, but the prospect of him remaining celibate on her behalf was somehow a relief—to know that she shared him with no one, that there were no ghosts of lovers' past haunting their bed. Excluding hers, of course, but she had given them no thought since her entanglement with the Warden began.

"How could you know what the touch of another would achieve?" she countered, finally, "You claim I am the only woman you've ever had; you have nothing to compare it to."

"Call it Warden's intuition," she felt his smile against her cheek. "And you were apart from me as long as I was from you. How did you fare?"

"Just fine, naturally. Though I would be lying if I said there were not nights I missed your touch, your body next to mine… But being with chilld kept me occupied, as did my research with the Dalish. I took no other men, if that was your true question."

"It wasn't, but I'm glad to see I had such an impact on you," he teased, hand molded to the small of her back, stroking the skin there in slow, comforting motions.

"Do not flatter yourself," she further tangled her legs with his, her feet playfully nudging his in a flirty game for two she had become quite fond of initiating between them. "I spent the vast majority of that time with the Dalish, who all but forbid relations before marriage. Not to mention the fact that I was a shemlen heavy with another man's child in their eyes. In short, my prospects were quite limited among the elves."

His hand found hers, and he interlocked their fingers together. "Hmm. Just as well. Would have hated to head off with any man unlucky enough to stand between you and I. I'm just happy to have you again. Both of you."

There was no trace of lip service in his statement, only the stern truth of a man who was clearly besotted. He licked his lips in the silence that followed, and Morrigan became hyper aware of the heat crackling between them in that moment.

"I do believe you are vastly overdressed."

She began tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. She then set upon his lips with her own again. This time the kiss wasn't calm, but voracious and passionate.

Darrian responded wholeheartedly, giving her full access to his mouth as her insistent tongue ventured past his lips. He was by no means passive, however, as she heard a groan rumble pleasantly from deep in his chest.

The kiss was wet and deliberate, the lust between them rearing its head as breathing was neglected in lieu of giving chase to that spiritual, ever-present magnetism between them.

She pressed herself flush against him, relishing in the way his warm, muscular body seemed to fit perfectly with hers. A strong but gentle hand found her hip, pushing her top upward. She broke their kiss briefly as she helped him get it over her head and tossed it away, then quickly claimed his lips again.

She laughed low and husky, breaking their kiss with an audibly fluid smack. "Eager Boy." She teased, scoring his chest with her medium length nails.

"You don't seem to be objecting either," he reminded her, "And I thought you wanted to wait until I had washed the sweat and woods off before you'd lie with me."

"Sweet of you to remind me of that after you've begun undressing me," she retorted with a smile, "But I daresay I think I have changed my mind, love. Besides…"

She kissed him where his neck met his shoulder, where the tang of his skin and the smell of his masculine musk were at its most potent. She picked up the sharp hint of oak from the trees.

"I think I am becoming quite amenable to this scent on you."

Those are the smells that she would forever equate with him and their closeness. She was immediately taken back to mild Ferelden nights in a tent, the blazing main camp fire snapping and crackling outside. Many times they made love in the small space, other times talked pointlessly about anything and everything, his long fingers intertwined with hers.

Other times she remembered his warm, sleep-heavy body next to hers in the pitch black of night, a strong arm draped protectively around her waist as his relaxed breathing tickled her neck and made her feel warm inside, her mother's grand plan for the Dark Ritual seemingly a thousand leagues away.

Darrian made a sound of disapproval, tossing her back into the present. "Hold on. What if I change my mind and decide that I'm no longer in the mood?"

Despite his tone, a small smug smile played on the corner of his lips.

The witched huffed. "I would call you a liar, first of all," she answered him, hand wandering down to the front of his breeches and brushing across the healthy bulge tenting against the fabric. "For it is quite clear you very much want this. If you wish for me to lay another finger on you at any point in the near future, I recommend not playing games."

"Yes ma'am. In that case, I am totally at the mercy of your whims."

Morrigan hummed, low and husky. "Mmm, a wise decision."

Darrian smiled boyishly in response, hand brushing her cheek, tucking a strand of jet black hair behind her ear. He tilted her face so he could look at her. "I love you. So much."

Morrigan's face flushed with his admission, but she quickly shook off the feeling and began the task of unbuckling his trousers.

"Yes, of course," she agreed noncommittally, hoping he wasn't being particularly observant, for surely he would have seen the blush betraying her flippant attitude.

Having unlooped his belt and discarded it, her fingers began the task of untying the fastenings of his snug leathers. She was stopped by his rough hands grasping hers.

"Wouldn't this be more comfortable in our bed?"

Morrigan shook her head. "Kieran is asleep in there, and you and I both know I'm not capable of being quiet."

They both knew that was true, for during their travels during the Blight their companions were quite outspoken about the fact their sleeping habits were disturbed by the pair's nighttime couplings, especially when they spent the night his tent which was in the middle of the main camp.

Toward the end of their journey together, they began exclusively using her tent for their joint activities at his urging, out of courtesy for the others. Of course, the point became moot when he told her that he loved her, for she refused to let him bed her after that. Her feelings for him had passed into dangerous territory already before he had even uttered that word, and her hope had been that the lack of sex would bring him the clarity to see that such notions were foolish and could only lead to destruction for them both.

Surely the Warden would reevaluate his feelings the moment sex was off the table, right? The sexual frustration and boredom would end things in his mind, no question.

Obviously, she had been mistaken. He never tried to coerce her to lie with him after that, but he still came to her every night, usually with the supper she wasn't eating because of her dark mood and a request for a goodnight kiss, for which she indulged him because not even she possessed the resolve needed to sever all closeness. He spent the night with her often in those next couple of weeks before the Landsmeet would inevitably take place, and she grudgingly allowed this, even knowing it was unwise to encourage their entanglement to continue. She found herself unable to stop. However, no sex transpired between them until that night at Redcliffe when he agreed to the Ritual.

Present day Darrian acquiesced, letting go of her enterprising hand, green eyes dark and smoldering. "If you're sure, but don't forget supper is still on the fire," he reminded her, "We have less than an hour."

"Then I suggest you stop talking, love, and save your energy for more enjoyable activities."

Her Warden agreed apparently, wasting no time capturing her lips in a long, wet, kiss before separating. She watched him hungrily after parting. His breathing was labored, mahogany hair mussed as he licked his kiss-swollen lips. An animalistic part of her enjoyed seeing the powerful and usually strong-willed Warden so debauched and needy.

She needed to look no farther than his body to see his want for her. Her open palm skirted down his stomach to the open fly of his pants, fingers brushing the landing strip of short coarse hairs below his navel. She caressed the healthy bulge of his arousal through the exposed thin fabric of his smallclothes, taking no small amount of pride in the fact that she had coaxed him into this state with little more than a few kisses.

Darrian exhaled a shuddering breath at her touch against his sensitive flesh. He seemed to come alive after that, animatedly ravishing her as much as her dominant position would allow him.

They spent the next minutes finishing the task of undressing each other.

His sword-worn hands against her skin had stoked a fire in her belly that was spreading south into her loins quickly. During the ten months they were apart she indeed missed the sex, missed his lean, muscular body against her small frame as they came together. But she also missed his voice saying her name with a reverence no man had ever placed upon her, missed his breath against her neck while he slept curled against her back, and his crooked smile when her barbed teasing had no effect on him.

She missed him, as much as she hated to admit it, and found herself quite somber during those months with the Dalish when there was no reason to believe they would ever be together again. The link between them kept her spirits up, for she could feel his presence through his ring and took a measure of comfort from the fact that he still held on to the 'practical' gift that was eventually transformed in her mind to represent all that there was between them.

Morrigan sat back on her haunches upon his lap, palms pressed against the hard, smooth planes of his pectorals.

His reverent gaze met her golden one, then his eyes began to travel down her naked form slowly. He didn't leer like she'd come to expect from men before him, but had a look of absorption, like he was drinking her in through his eyes.

Darrian caught her hand with his, interlocking their fingers. She fingered her ring on his left hand, turning it.

He brought her hand towards his lips, pressing them against her knuckle, then kissed the top.

"There is no time for foreplay," she chided him in his husky timbre, "Kieran could wake any moment, and I find myself growing impatient."

Morrigan rolled her hips against him to emphasize her statement, where she was certain he had to have felt her already wet and ready for him. The Warden moaned beneath her.

"H-how do you want it, Mori?"

His adam's apple bobbed, his entire body stiff and taut with arousal. She brushed her palm against his impressively long and thick length as it lay hard and curved against his stomach. "I want you to take me while I sit atop you; how does that sound?"

Darrian moved to sit normally on the couch, hands gripping her backside as he held her against him during the shift. He rasped his affirmation, guttural an thick with desire. His skin tone was darker than hers by a bit, but not near enough to hide the flush of his heated skin.

Her slight hand enclosed what she could of him in a fist at the base of his manhood.

Not in the mood for any further preparation seeing as she was already ready for him, she positioned herself over him, knees on either side of him, then sunk down onto him slowly.

The Warden sighed as her tightness enveloped him, laying back slightly so she would be more comfortable.

Morrigan bit her lip as he breached her, nails digging into his stomach as she braced herself against him. She went as slow as possible as she lowered herself down. She was able to feel every ridge and hitch of him at this pace, and conversely, she was spared the discomfort of taking all of him too quickly.

Darrian knew this, because she could see he was using great self-control to not move his hips an inch until she told him she was ready.

Such was his way. Morrigan never had to ask him to be patient, it was simply in his nature. His instinct was to protect her and everyone around him, sometimes to her irritation.

She savored every delicious inch of him on her slow descent down until finally she was flush against his lap. A soft breathy moan escaped from her slightly parted lips as she reveled in the sensation of being connected intimately to the man beneath her.

Her Warden's head lolled back, a near whimper vibrating from deep in his chest.

Morrigan hummed. "There is room only for one baby in this house." She told him airily. "You are not even the one who has to be on the receiving end, accommodating a man of your size."

Darrian leaned his head forward to look at her, concern creasing his brow. "Oh. Are you- ?"

"I am fine, as always, you do not even have to ask me such a question," Morrigan admonished him, rolling her hips experimentally, keening as a particularly sharp sensation of pleasure ebbed in her very core. "We have done this before, if you remember."

"C-couldn't forget," came his strained reply. She began the task of lifting off him as he hooked his hand under her knee so less strain would fall on her. "Maker, you feel good."

"Mmm," she agreed, wasting no time setting their rhythm. Her pace started slowly, his length filling her completely on descent, and making her feel empty on every slide out of her as she lifted off of him.

Darrian began to move his hips to meet hers, grasping her behind and helping her to move up and down atop him.

She wasn't sure if his helping hands were to assist her in the unique position they were making love in, or a knee-jerk reaction to add to his own pleasure. Knowing him, it was most likely a strange mixture of both.

The room was mouse quiet, save for her own sighs bouncing off the walls mixed with his deeper groans and the crackle of the cooking fire.

He felt exquisite inside of her, his hips and hands aiding him in brushing places inside of her she wasn't aware she had. Her thighs began to burn from the demanding muscle strength bouncing on his lap required, so she took a rest from that and began grinding down against him in a circular motion.

Darrian hissed, "So beautiful, Mori. You take it so well."

She bit her lip, arching her back at the praise as the hard body beneath her was suddenly gone. In a whirl, she found herself on her back, pressed into the soft fabric of their plain, unadorned sofa. He had effortlessly switched their positions without warning, his warmer, heavier, larger body now on top of hers

Morrigan made a sound of discontent, perturbed at the sudden change in dynamic as he gently nudged her legs apart so he could move between her thighs.

"I needed to be close to you," he answered her unspoken question, "It's easier like this."

"Equal parts sentimental and impatient, I think." she teased, tracing his pointed ear. He silenced her by leaning all the way down so he could cup her cheek, pulling her lips to his. And amid the distraction of his unhurried mouth plundering hers, he re-entered her.

She keened against his mouth at the feeling of being filled once more at the new angle.

In truth she liked his more domineering side in those sporadic moments he deigned it appropriate to let it show. She could feel him, swollen and throbbing within her, and she knew he wasn't very far from completion.

Neither was she.

He broke their kiss and hoisted one leg nearly to his shoulder while hooking his arm under her knee on the other. He continued to slowly thrust into her, pressing himself root deep before pulling out, only to repeat the process again.

She moaned quite loudly on a particularly deep slide home and called out his name. He wasn't faring much better. While he wasn't nearly as vocal as she was, he still wasn't capable of anything coherent at this stage in their coupling, just sighs, groans, and stuttered gasps of her name. He murmured praises in the heated air between them that were meant for only her ears, about how good she looked, how good she felt, how wonderful she was.

He pressed his cheek against her calf as it laid against his shoulder and kissed it.

Morrigan couldn't imagine what she must look like, skin flushed, breasts heaving as he repeatedly drilled her into the cushions beneath them. But he fit inside her so well, her wetness providing the perfect amount of lubrication between them so their joining was hot and slick and so deep it somehow transcended sex. Every push home nearly took the breath from her lungs; he filled her deeply and completely every time. He was almost intimidatingly large, and more than once she was tempted to ask if all elven men were as well endowed as he, but the question always died in her brain upon orgasm.

He rolled his hips once more, and managed to hit that incredible secret spot inside of her.

Morrigan nearly choked on her sigh, and Darrian quickly placed her legs at either side of himself so he could surge forward and nuzzle into her neck, clearly feeling everything as heavily as she was.

He whimpered in a way that would probably be considered quite un-masculine despite everything she knew to the contrary, and peppered kisses along her neck.

He slowly picked up their rhythm again, the both of them meeting each other drive for drive.

She reached her pinnacle after the fourth or fifth slide home, and he toppled over right behind her.

Her ear was filled with his gasps as he spilled himself inside of her, still pushing into her shallowly, the sensitivity in full force for them both. Their bodies stuttered against each other as they moved tiredly in tandem, Morrigan cried out his name, her hands gripping his forearms, nails digging into his skin as her orgasm shook her insides to the core.

Darrian eventually stilled completely and made to pull out of her, but she quickly prevented him by her legs locking around him.

"You're not going anywhere, Warden." Morrigan purred, running her open palms up his hard chest, stopping at his pectorals, relishing the feeling of his warm skin and the slight full-body tremble she felt underneath. "I like you exactly where you are."

Darrian kissed her neck right above her pulse point, "No argument here."

She could feel that he was still half-hard, and rolled her hips teasingly against his. A quiet gasp escaped his lips.

The Warden resituated them, squeezing into the space beside her and the back of the sofa, and the new position allow them both to lay comfortably together, legs tangled, her head on his chest. She could hear the steady thump of his heart which still beat rapidly in his afterglow. The sound paired with his breathing was lulling her into a state of complacency.

"That was amazing." He murmured, still breathing rather heavily. He brushed some of her bangs from in front of her eyes. "You're a dream,"

Morrigan chuckled, her body still buzzing in the wake of her climax. "It was passable, Warden. Well done."

Of course it was more than passable, but she felt as if a little bit of teasing was in order.

Darrian's smile told her he understood, and he pecked her on the top of her head.

"This is nice." He murmured, arms enveloping her as he pulled her tight against him, his warmth transferring to her. "I missed having you in my arms like this."

"Peculiar man," she teased.

He laughed quietly. "You had others before me. Don't tell me I'm the only man who was inclined to linger after the love was made."

Morrigan went quiet for a moment, the question sending her into thought. "Except for one other, yes. Most men are all too happy to move on quickly after they get what they desire."

"And the other?" the unspoken request for her to elaborate was apparent in his voice.

"Mmm. It was during one of my forays out of the Wilds. In Lothering, in fact. I met a man at the tavern there. He offered to buy me a drink. I was intrigued by the whole exchange, truthfully, so I accepted. After the third time, he seemed quite smitten. I flirted a bit and we eventually ended up in his room at the tavern."

Morrigan paused, scanning her lover's face for a hint of chagrin or jealousy, but found none. His expression was smooth as he listened intently.

"And then…?" he probed.

Morrigan sighed, not as eager to recall events of her past as he seemed to be. "Are you sure you want to hear about my being with another man?"

"No," he admitted tentively. "But I'm always willing to know more about you."

She traced small shapes on the naked skin of his shoulder. "Fine, but I won't have this used against me in some future disagreement."

"Have I ever used your past as ammunition?"

Darrian had never used anything against her, period, admittedly. His curiosity seemed infinitely bizarre to her, but as usual his sincerity disarmed her.

"We began sleeping together… pretty regularly. He never knew of me being an apostate. I always posed as an herbalist to the townsfolk. I think he worked for a farmer in the village. I always left after our joinings, until one night he stopped me, asked me to stay the night."

The both of them were silent for a few moments as her story settled between them.

"Did you?" her partner inquired, far more interested in her tale than she thought he should be.

Morrigan sighed. "I was naïve, so I agreed."

Darrian looked at her pointedly. "The way you speak of him… did you love him?"

Had she loved him? It was hard to say. In many ways he reminded her of Darrian. He was kind, albeit more readily inclined to accept a purely physical relationship than the Warden was. Truth be told, her former lover was indecisive, he wanted more, but took less because it was the most convenient course of action. Wishy washiness was something the witch detested. That is, until she found herself on the other end when it came to her Warden.

No, she hadn't loved the farmhand from Lothering, maybe she would have eventually, but fate always has a different gambit.

Morrigan huffed. "I told you, I had no experience with love until well into our relationship. But he was uncomplicated, safe, who is to say what would have happened under different circumstances?

"Different circumstances?"

"… I went to the tavern when he had requested to see me a couple of days before, but he wasn't there. The bartend had suspicions that we were… involved. He informed me that apparently he had been chopping wood for the farmer he worked for when he had an encounter with a large bear. He… did not survive."

Darrian's expression went from interested to despondent. "I'm so sorry, Morrigan."

"There is no need. Tis in the past," her voice was quieter, smaller than she intended. "And who knows what would have happened if he and I had stayed involved? To change the past is to change what we have in the present; you, I, Kieran."

He leaned in for a kiss on the lips.

"Is he why you were so cautious of us?"

Morrigan clicked her tongue. "Of course not. My caution was common sense; I knew you were a man marked for death unless I could get you to agree to the Ritual Mother had prepared, and I had every intention of leaving you behind afterward. My farmhand merely solidified the knowledge that entanglements are fleeting and pointless."

Darrian gave her a pointed look.

"But you had different plans," she continued. "And you got under my skin to the point I gave up fighting against our connection."

"Good call," Darrian grinned and kissed her again, and she betrayed her carefully maintained aloofness with an embarrassingly girlish giggle.

"You're an insufferable man with a strange idea of pillow talk," she countered in an effort to save a little bit of face.

The Warden Commander only hummed in response, pulling her close and resting his chin atop her head.

She couldn't lie, being in his arms was nice. He was warm, strong, and never failed to make her forget how opposed to being this comfortable with the idea of being in love she was supposed to be.

She laid there with him for a while, basking in post coital happiness while her body relaxed back into its normal algorithms in his arms.

Then shattering the comfortable quiet between them, a strange scratching sound broke her from the blissful aura of their afterglow that had wrapped itself around her.

"What is that?" she questioned, lifting her head, turning from him to scan the room.

The Warden turned his head, scanning for the noise and its origin.

"I think I might know," he supplied, slowly disengaging himself from their comfortable position. Morrigan sighed as their physical connection was severed and that strange post lovemaking emptiness seeped into her bones the moment their intimacy was lost.

He effortlessly leapt from the sofa and started toward the door. Then in afterthought, he turned to her, naked as the day he was born and leaned down to kiss her. She reached for the side of his face, pulling him close as she returned the kiss. A warmth spread throughout her entire body, like someone had poured hot tea straight into her veins. His lips, his closeness, it all seemed to wrap around her like a thick blanket. The desire stoked between them and the kiss became deeper and longer.

Morrigan decided to pull away before round two of their lovemaking became inevitable. She bit his bottom lip playfully as they parted, but he made no move to pull away from her space. She traced his jawline with her thumb as he looked upon her with an expression on his face that made her blood rise hot into her cheeks. He looked at her like he had never seen a woman before, and it made her feel both perturbed and buoyant at the same time.

The scratching returned, breaking the moment between them. Darrian collected his trousers from off the floor, quickly pulling them on to cover his nakedness.

Morrigan got up and began to pick up her own discarded garments as Darrian went to their threshold and opened the door.

The culprit behind the scratching was discovered as the Warden's mabari excitedly bounded into the cottage. Darrian closed the door behind the beast and busied himself with stirring the pot of what she guessed was some sort of stew as it bubbled over the fire.

She redressed and sat back down on the couch. Barkspawn jumped up right after and immediately tried to invade her personal space, which she wasn't going to let happen.

"Go bother your master, stench-ridden beast. Why do you insist on pestering me so?!"

Barkspawn whimpered in response and the Warden laughed warmly as he leaned over the cooking pot. He ladled the stew into wooden bowls and stood up, walking toward her.

"He likes you and wants your attention. I can relate."

Morrigan grimaced. "Yes, well, out of the two of you he's not the one I want licking my face in a desperate bid for validation."

Darrian sat down beside her and handed her a steaming bowl. "You flatter me, Darling." He joked.

She feigned annoyance as she took her supper from him by halfheartedly rolling her eyes. "You know what I mean."

She stirred around the stew, bits of meat and vegetables floating around in a caramel colored broth. It smelled earthy and hearty; very much Ferelden.

Darrian grinned lopsidedly at her and nudged her knee playfully with his.

Morrigan couldn't stop the small quirk at the corner of her mouth in response to the flurry of emotion that quivered in her chest as his handsome face looked at her in that puzzling way he always did.

The witch returned to her meal. The stew was quite delectable; Darrian was a decent cook, she had to give him that, though she was the primary cook in the household, much as she had been with her mother.

It was a strange feeling to realize that this was the first proper home she had made with anyone besides Flemeth. During the Blight she slept in tents and in the occasional castle, after that she lived among the Dalish as she studied the properties of the Eluvians.

Darrian was the first person she had ever lived after her mother. She instinctively wanted to correlate the two experiences, but after a pair of days found that they were incomparable to one another.

Her new life was different. She was different.

The both of them ate in silence for the most part, she would occasionally look up to find The Hero of Ferelden completely absorbed in his meal, until he felt her eyes on him and looked up, offering her a look of complete serenity and contentment.

When her bowl was empty he finally spoke.

"Would you like more?" he asked. "I'm not as good at this as you, but I hope you like it regardless. I figured asking you to make our supper earlier would have earned me a spot alone on this couch to sleep tonight."

"At the very least, yes." She agreed, lips pursed. "But I am fine. I desire no more, though you did well preparing it."

"Allistair's recipe," her Warden confirmed with a grin.

She swatted at him for mentioning the other Warden's concoctions that she always claimed to dislike when Alistair himself was making them, earning a warm laugh from her partner.

He arose after that, putting away the dishes and stoking the hearthfire to warm their little cottage. Morrigan was reading her tome once more when he returned to his seat beside her.

She unconsciously moved closer to him, making herself a comfortable spot at his side, head on his chest as she tucked her legs underneath herself.

Darrian hummed his approval of their arrangement, letting his own cheek rest on top of her head. His arm draped around her, his calloused hand brushing her slender arm up and down in comforting strokes.

She felt warm in his embrace and continued reading the magical text in her hand, her earlier anger at him forgotten.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Morrigan, darling, wake up."

A quiet, pleasant voice near her ear woke her from her slumber. Morrigan's long eyelashes fluttered as her eyes opened to a dark room.

The witch struggled to get her bearings, unsure of where she was in the haze of sleep. But she could recognize that calm, deep voice that roused her from sleep anywhere.

"Warden, what is the meaning of—"

He shushed her calmly, and Morrigan finally realized she was still snuggled close to Darrian, apparently having fell asleep on the couch while reading. "Everything is alright, Mori," he assured her.

"Is Kieran- ?"

"Our son is fast asleep," he answered her, "Now let's go to bed. We dozed off."

He patted her leg and stood, the apostate following suit.

Once they entered their room, Morrigan snapped her fingers and a candlestick on their bedside table flickered to life.

The orange glow danced around the four walls, and Darrian immediately stripped down to his small clothes as Morrigan undressed. She reached for a nightgown she had left tossed across their bed the night previous.

She had barely donned the sleepwear when her Warden set on her from out of nowhere.

Morrigan squealed as he scooped her up, hands lifting her by her backside. The witch's arms immediately wound around his neck so she didn't flop backwards. He gently set her on her back upon their bed, covering her with his own warm body, kissing every available inch of skin above her collarbone.

His actions weren't lascivious, in fact they much reminded her of the eagerness his mabari displayed.

Though she very much enjoyed his lips on her neck, she pinched his shoulder in protest.

"Get off, you bear of an elf. I swear, if you wake up Kieran…"

A warm chuckle was her reply, and he pecked her on the lips. "I'm sorry, it's just watching you right then, I couldn't help it."

"You're quite insatiable tonight. We have already made love today, not so very long ago."

"Heh. True, but sex wasn't my motivation. It's just—seeing you there, so beautiful, changing into that cute little nightgown before you crawl into our bed, knowing that you're mine... happiness is a little hard to contain somtimes."

Morrigan hummed as Darrian carded his fingers through her black locks. "Yours? As I recall, I belong to no one, Warden."

The Hero of Ferelden smiled. "If it lessens the blow any, know that I'm completely and utterly yours."

A bothersome airy feeling tingled in her chest. "I suppose there are worse things than being at the mercy of a handsome man,"

His hand rested on her hip, fingers pressing gently into her skin. "No plays for dominance, I promise, just love."

"Silly sentimental man."

A comfortable silence settled between them momentarily, and if she hadn't been facing him she would have assumed he had fallen asleep.

He pursed his lips, "I want to ask you something, but you have to promise not to turn me into a frog if I do." He spoke finally. Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"I make no promises," she replied flatly. "But ask what you will and I will decide from there."

The orange haze from the candle light danced around the room, highlighting the earnest spark in his green eyes. "I was wondering when you finish whatever you need to accomplish here, if we could go back to Denerim and visit the alienage. I want you and Kieran to meet the rest of the family. My father could meet his grandchild; you. I didn't get to introduce you in the midst of the chaos of the Landsmeet."

"I suppose tis only fair your father gets to meet Kieran if we ever return to Denerim, so long as it doesn't interfere with his destiny. Why would I be angry at that?"

"Heh, well it's not that part I was concerned about," he laughed nervously, quietly, so as not to wake the infant sleeping a few feet away. "I was curious as to whether you would ever consider… making this arrangement legal, public, next time we are in Ferelden."

Morrigan's snapped to attention at that. "Public? Legal? I sincerely hope you are not referring to marriage."

"And if I am? Is that so terrible?"

Morrigan retreated from him, detangling her limbs from his and sitting up against the headpost of their bed. She didn't miss the sadness that flashed across his face as she wretched herself from him. "I should say so. I've told you in no uncertain terms how pointless such an exercise would be."

"Is telling all of Thedas that I am yours and you and mine really so damnable?"

Morrigan huffed. "First of all, I would rather choke and die than to stand in front of some Chantry priest and submit to some ancient edict that any pair of humans who enjoy physical intimacy together must be married, nor do I imagine any Chantry would grant us a ceremony or certificate considering your bride is considered a maleficar. Or is that what you want? To make this arrangement 'legitimate' with paperwork so your family would approve?"

"I feel no need to legitimize what we have, to the Chantry, my family, or otherwise. I want to do this so everyone will know I love you and Kieran, and that we—the three of us—are a family."

The witch bristled. His words sounded well enough on paper, perhaps, but there were an awful lot of 'I's in that statement for her liking. "You feel as if you need to lay claim to keep me? I have let go of many things for this. I abandoned my better judgment for this love, to give you a chance to be part of our lives when you yourself agreed to leave us be. I would imagine a man just ridden like a pure-bred Orlesian stallion a few hours ago as you were would be far less demanding. Why are you never satisfied with what I give?"

The Hero of Ferelden flushed pink, she guessed because of the crass reference to their earlier lovemaking. "I'm not 'laying claim'. I'm just proud to be your mate and Kieran's father, and want the world to know me as such."

Morrigan opened her mouth to rebut, but her partner sat up so he was level with her, and brushed her lip with his thumb to silence her. "And you know the fate that awaits me. I don't know what the future holds, but one day I'll either be consumed by madness and become a danger to the both of you, or make the journey to the Deep Roads before that happens. If you're my legal wife, you'll be inheritor of Amaranthine, and I know that you and Kieran will be taken care of and won't have to live in the outskirts."

Morrigan's face fell at the mention of his Calling. It was something she honestly tried not to think of. As much as she tried to play the aloof one, she dreaded the thought of losing him to the madness of the taint. As much as she had always hated the idea of being bound to man by a parchment of paper, her Warden was different, and his intentions seemed protective more than possessive.

Darrian sighed. "I don't want to fight. I know you feel differently about marriage than I do. Forget I said anything."

The elf sunk back down into their mattress. Morrigan sighed and followed suit, turning away from him and maintaining more distance that she normally would.

With a wave of her fingers, the candlelight died and the room became black again.

A moment later she felt the warmth of his body curling around her as he pressed himself close to her back, arm draping around her middle, tugging her close.

Darrian kissed the base of her ear. "Goodnight."

Morrigan's hand found his near her belly and interlocked their fingers.

"… I will think on what you ask. Perhaps if we get to Denerim and you propose properly with a suitable ring, I might be of a mind to say yes."

She felt his hand squeeze hers, and could almost picture the ecstatic smile that was surely splitting his face from ear to ear. "Whatever you want, Morrigan. As much as I want it, I wouldn't force this on you."

"Nor would I let you," she quipped, "I just realized that I have admitted my love for you, carried your child, and am now living with you as we raise him together. Not to mention we fight during the day and make love erratically around the schedule of a infant. We're acting as the married do, the only thing missing is that scrap of paper you cherish so. I promise only to give your proposal some thought."

"And I will buy you the grandest ring and ask for your hand in the middle of the largest mob of people I can find when you least expect it. Then I'll whisk you away to see my family so I can tell them the good news. Hopefully the second time's the charm when it comes to weddings."

Morrigan couldn't fight the smile that spread across her own face, knowing he was referring to the arranged marriage that was ruined by the human nobles and eventually led to his becoming a Grey Warden.

"I'm regretting giving hope to this already,"

Darrian laughed warmly in that velvety voice of his. "I was depressed for a while after that whole thing with my cousin, and especially after Ostagar. Getting to know you and Leliana along with the others was my silver lining, and I was already very much in love with you by the time we went back to see my family before the Landsmeet. So, I can't regret all the tragedy of that wedding day, because it led me to you, to the end of The Blight, to survival, to being with you and my son. I only wish all of Thedas to know that we are a family, unconventional as we are, and the love I have for the both of you can never be disputed no matter what happens to me."

He paused, and the quiet wrapped around them in the dark room. His confession made her insides flutter, but she remained silent, letting the words settle between them.

"I refuse to let some blood madness cut our time together short." He vowed

Morrigan worried her bottom lip, trying not to think of such things. "Don't concern yourself for the future. Once Kieran is at a suitable age we can leave here, then we will figure out what comes next."

A rumble from deep in his chest voiced his agreement, and silence fell between them once more, Darrian's even breathing and warm body the only thing known to her in the darkness.

Morrigan slept well that night, as she did every night next to him, until the light streaming through the window greeted her the next morning and voice near her ear whispered sweet nothings and the cry of an infant moved them both to action.

Thus was how her days began in the little world they had created for themselves.

.fin.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost from fanfiction.net. The WardenMorrigan section is criminally bare, so I thought you all might also enjoy a good romance between them here. I sincerely hope you enjoyed this little oneshot. Also, leave some comments/concerns/suggestions if you feel so inclined.


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